


sing to me hope

by GlitterDwarf



Series: SV Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterDwarf/pseuds/GlitterDwarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill, AU: meeting at a support group. TW: Mental illness, treatment centers</p><p>Richard was no longer moving, but his hands were clasping and unclasping into fists.  Donald floundered in his mind; there had to be a way to calm Richard down. This was his last chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing to me hope

“And what are you going to do tomorrow, Donald?” his therapist asked. She was filling out her part of his discharge paperwork, and that same pen she always used was still making that scratching sound. Before it had been torturous, but right now it sounded like hope, like the future, and like freedom.

“I’ll be attending the first meeting of my out-patient treatment at the building on Walnut Avenue,” Donald parroted. “Hey, do you know if Tamara is still one of the therapists working with that group?”

“Yes she is,” his therapist said with a smile. “She sent us a message this morning after seeing your name added to the group roster. She wants you to know that she’s proud of you.”

looked at his feet and grinned. His fingers and toes curled at the praise, a reflex of surprising happiness.

“You know,” he whispered. “I’m kind of proud of myself, too.”

“You should be,” his therapist agreed. She finally put the pen down, then looked him in face. She rarely smiled in their sessions, but this time her smile was so bright that he could see what seemed like all of her pristine teeth. He subconsciously ran his tongue over his veneers at the sight; the government had been so nice to pay for his new teeth after that fight with one of his foster siblings left him with several empty sockets. “I know coming back felt like a failure at first, but we were all very happy that you chose to stay as long as you needed this time. We all believe in you.”

Donald smiled and rubbed his fingers over the soft fabric bunched up at his waist on his fleece vest. In a previous session she had pointed out that this was a tactile tic, sure, and that they had talked at length about his hands being his “tell” for his emotional state, but that it was okay. That the vest could be a security blanket, or a symbol, or whatever he wanted it to be. That needing such a thing wasn’t a sign of weakness, but a sign that he should be unafraid to take care of himself as an adult.

“Well, Donald, my time with you is over. Is it okay if I give you a quick hug before you go?”

“Of course!” he scrambled to his feet and reached his arms out. He was sure that it looks somewhat juvenile, but what 24 year old didn’t secretly yearn for a mother’s hug?

His positive attitude carried him through the next meetings on his way to discharge. Once again he didn’t have anybody to pick him up, but this time his insistence that it was okay wasn’t a lie. Ultimately he ended up being told that there was just one signature left, but that it would be an hour before it could happen.

This was fine. His feet had become restless and itching to move anyway; he hadn’t said goodbye to Richard yet.

He found him on the floor of their shared bathroom. Like the first night he quietly shut the door to the bathroom, prayed that the nurses wouldn’t immediately notice, and curled his hand around Richard’s.

“I’m sorry,” his roommate hiccupped pitifully. “I wanted to be strong for you. I don’t want you to feel bad for leaving.”

Donald sighed and shuffled until he could lay Richard’s head in his lap. His hands automatically started sifting through those lovely curls, lightly rubbing into the spots he had learned over the past week needed massaging. When he pulled back Richard rolled his head until he was resting into Donald's thigh. He could feel the dampness of tears soaking into his pants already.

“Richard,” he whispered. “I’ve worked so hard to be okay, and I know I’m still a mess but…but being with you was like waking up from a bad dream. I worked on myself so I can get through today, but knowing you has made me hopeful for the future.”

Richard was no longer moving, but his hands were clasping and unclasping into fists. They were his tell, too. Donald floundered in his mind; there had to be a way to calm Richard down. This was his last chance.

“I know you’ll be okay after I leave. You are so strong and you don’t need me. I believe in you. And I hope this doesn’t ruin anything, and you can push me away if you must, but I have romantic feelings for you as well.”

The head in his lap shifted. Donald squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deep, willing the dizziness and fear to go away. The rustling of body movement seemed to justify his fears, though.

Until there were cool but shaking hands on his cheeks, and the press of dry, cracked lips to his cheek. He let out a shaky breath, just in time for the lips to move their pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth, and then finally on his own lips. His toes curled, his heart fluttered, and the tears in his eyes were happy for the first time since he could remember.

They only pulled apart when a short “ahem” came from above. It was nurse Bighetti, and he was fighting a smile.

“You know, Donald, if you weren’t getting discharged right now you would be in big trouble.” But the smile on his face revealed the truth; they couldn’t be angry with him. He was finally ready. (And if he saw the nurses putting five-dollar bills into Nurse Bighetti’s hands at the nurse’s station later? Well, it was nice to know that people were already rooting for them.)

The fresh air as the automatic doors slid open was a gust of renewal, of the future. The hum of his car coming to life again was his tactile rumble of his recent past, easing into his body like quietly shifted puzzle pieces. And his phone had a new contact number, a kiss, a promise of good things to come.

He drove away from the treatment center, hopefully for the last time, breathing new air.


End file.
